There Shall Come What May
by EarlOfOdium
Summary: Lord Light suffers from a crippling boredom. He brings home a concubine in hopes of slating that boredom. Come time, he may feel love, or something else entirely. But L is dangerous and Light will pay for it. Light/L, AU
1. My Little Bird, Suffer Me a Drowning

A/N: First fan fiction. I had a lot of fun writing this actually. I hope that it brings joy to read, and that whoever reads it is intrigued.

Warnings: Boy love, unpleasant images, language, a lot of formal speaking, probably some out of character characters, but I tried to keep them true to themselves as best I could.

Pairings: Light/L, Mello/Matt, Mello/Near, Near/Matt, some other small ones

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter one: My Little Bird, Suffer Me a Drowning

Dear Mr. Whammy,

I'm very glad to tell you that I was intrigued by your offer. I only have to apologize that word of my ennui had to reach you as it did. It is something I should have taken into my own hands when it began.

Despite my distasteful behavior, I will announce my arrival at your place of business in no more than a three days time.

Lord, Light Yagami

The letter had been sent and received two days ago, and the young lord was still traveling. The coach moved slowly, and Misa's company was no more inviting than the rats and disease that he left behind at his own estate. His people were suffering there, and he really couldn't make himself care much.

The young fair man sat with his hand folded under his chin, twirling much too old ale in a much too cheap chalice. He didn't want it, nor did his bride. He had married her because she was lovely. She sang at court as women were supposed to, and she had kept quiet for the first few months

Her presence has since become slightly more than a complete nuisance. She hung on him irritatingly, batted her lashes like a whore, and wore enough perfume to bathe a small nation. He was pretty well sick of her. And she spoke of such unimportant things, court duties, and the hardships of staying pretty and thin. It seemed like such a dreadfully boring life. Not that Light knew or cared.

"Why are we going out so far into the kingdom?" She wondered, her voice causing him to wince. She was somewhat preoccupied wondering about her hair in a way that women like her so did.

"Because I'm am bored to the point of tears," he said quite easily though coldly, as though he were talking to something so far below him that he could squash it to dust. She either didn't notice or didn't care. She had the power that she wanted, and his love was her obsession. It gave her something to work for, a reason to live.

"That's all fine and all, but we have been going for so long, with so little time to rest in between. I'm exhausted."

Light frowned deeply. "Exhausted? Why not go walk with the horses in the coming hours? Then you may appreciate the cabin here that has been provided." He was in a sour mood. She was quiet after that.

The landscape passed by as it grew past mid day. When the hours of two or three went by sprawling farms and green hills became paved. The trails were more traveled, they were muddy, and they smelled disgustingly of wet earth and excrement from the horses and animals that were herded to the over grazed fields on the edges of the town.

The town itself was filled to the brim with decay. There were prostitutes on almost every corner, wearing cakey makeup with their hair slick with rotten sweet oils. In the streets lay the rotting corpses of the dead, and the children still played in the muck and grime, despite the odor and the disease. As they went on there came the plagued areas. Children were dead there in murky puddles.

Light looked out on it all with vague thoughts of pride. His own lands were in much better shape. Their lord either had to be very cruel, or three times as bored with life as he was.

The carriage stopped at a store. The store was rotting at the foundations and wooden like all the rest. It had been painted, but the paint was chipping and hideous, and a most unappealing shade of dull pink. The door had a hand painted sign, displaying their 'kurently clowsed' status. Light was amazed at the sheer stupidity of people.

He waited for the footman to open his door and slid out, glaring daggers at the man for nudging his shoe. He said nothing and passed to the door, knocking on the splintery wood with a sense of accomplishment when a nearby man looked over at his startled, taking in the sight of his immaculate clothing.

Naturally, for Light the door opened and at the doorway was a very old man. He was gray all over; face lined with more years then should be humanly possible in this age of winter upon man. He was dressed like and upper middle class man and the inside of his shop smelled of freshly renewed sweet oils. He walked in and shut the door firmly, hoping that Misa wouldn't feel invited by all the nice things and the smell.

"Mr. Whammy I presume?" Light asked, carefully removing his hat so that his rich and well taken care of tawny hair was in full sight.

The gray wobbling man nodded and stepped back and let Light see fully all of the nice things. There were shelves and shelves of candles and bathing items, all appeared to not be for sale though. However there were oddities about, stone statues with glaring eyes, odd mechanical devices, and a slew of other fantastic oddities. Light felt terribly cramped.

The store was very small, and very full.

"Yes, well, you mentioned some odd item that I may like?"

"Mr. Yagami, you may want to reconsider," Mr. Whammy said, carefully taking the young lord's elbow in his shaking vein ridden hand and lead him past the counter where his business was conducted, to a room where the smells of the village outside, and the gloom seemed to die away.

In the corner burned fragrant incense that made Light dizzy with the sudden need to sneeze. The room was wooden floored, not well taken care of, but clean. The walls were the same pink as the outside. The room was mostly bear with the exception of a small red head, dressed in warm clothes, with dark lenses over his eyes.

He worked at something that required his full attention, so Light paid him no mind, assuming that should they meet that between the two of them it would happen somehow.

"I've no interest in reconsidering. So give me whatever animal or toy you have to offer. I've seen them all, and if this offer of your is as intriguing as your letter said, you may be paid handsomely."

Mr. Whammy sighed and shook his head, gripping his chest for a moment as though he were ailing. "I'll take no money from you Lord Yagami. But, I do require one thing. Once you lay eyes on it, it is yours, and you may never return it here, no matter how unsatisfied. If you agree, I'll offer you what I have promised. You may still rethink this decision."

The red head turned then, lifting the lenses from his bright green eyes. "You're giving it to him?" he wondered aloud. He had some kind of accent that Light couldn't place. The boy seemed healthy too, and only about seventeen. That was an age that Light detested.

The boy smirked and stood. He was a tall and willowy thing, and pale like a lord, though dirty like a street rat. He smiled. His teeth were well taken care of and white.

Light narrowed his eyes. There was something wrong with these people. There was something very wrong. The smile turned less childish a moment later, and the feeling hit Light twice as hard.

"Well, I've heard of the horrid plight of the good Lord Yagami. I've heard of how his boredom has driven him to the neglect of his people, and how he searches all over to sate it while even here the streets are plagued with rats and the corpses of the diseased dead. Yes, and of how you kill those that don't amuse you properly," the red head said, smiling deadly.

"Yes, rat, and if this thing of your grandfather's doesn't suit me, you'll follow him."

The boy met the challenge, stepping closer a tad and standing on the balls of his feet to almost meet the lord's eyes. "That won't be a problem, you'll be more than satisfied."

Light pushed the boy and gave an indignant huff. He brushed off his fine clothes as though the young man had some lingering effect of filth and decay on him. But he didn't. Nothing about this place held the decay of the world outside the walls, and that fact was concerning.

"Matt that's enough," Mr. Whammy said. He didn't seem to mind the rudeness of the little snot. Light was annoyed at this, but he made no comment, since it shut the young man up. "Now, Lord Yagami, I'm giving you my last offer to end this now. You'll no longer be in this depressive state of boredom, but what you get may be worse."

"Stop stalling. I came here for something, and I want it." Light was getting very annoyed. That was a dangerous mood for him to be in. "You'll do well to give it to me."

Mr. Whammy seemed mildly concerned, for a moment there was a flash of...pity that crossed his features. Appalled by this, Light turned his eyes away and looked at the young red head. His back was to Light and Mr. Whammy again, he was hunched over, tinkering sounds coming from him. He was an inventor? Light was somewhat amazed by that revelation.

"Yes, Lord Yagami. I will fetch it for you and be right back." Mr. Whammy left the room as quickly as he could, hobbling on his old legs. Light waited, tapping his left foot eagerly. He was excited. This place seemed odd enough to provide him with some amount of entertainment, even if only for a few hours. He wondered though, what could this old man have that the man with everything in the world would possibly want?

His question wasn't answered for almost ten minutes. Then the drape from the store was opened and Mr. Whammy came in, hanging onto an arm. The creature that came in with him was a sickly looking thing. His eyes were huge, but not innocent, his skin was white, but not like snow, like sickness. His body was bone thin and his hair was black like dry ink. He was far more stable than the man that lead him, but the man seemed to be keeping him up. "This is what I promised."

The young man let go of the elder and stood as straight as a back that damaged would allow. He was stooped, but still very tall. Looking at him, he was actually rather androgynous, and the more that Light observed him, the more attractive he became. "A man?"

Mr. Whammy's eyes gleamed. The man left him and walked towards Matt and knelt down beside him.

"Matt, I'm going with this lord. You take care of yourself." This thing spoke quietly. Oddly, Light found that he almost couldn't think of it as a person, since the very beginning the man had been referred to as 'it' and that was very much what he became. 'It' was hardly a human creature at all.

"L... I hope that this make you happy." After that they spoke quietly, so quietly in fact, that they weren't even really talking at all, just looking at each other, speaking in their minds and with their eyes. They parted with an odd statement on its part.

"A hunter's arrow is his kiss." It sounded like a warning, one that, from the look on his face, Matt had heard countless times, and had yet to head. After that he went to Light's side and waited to be taken away.

"What you have to offer me... is a man?"

"Not just any man. He was once among our Lord and King's concubines, one of his favorites."

"Then why is he here?"

It answered this question, looking at Light with his huge eyes twinkling and smiling slyly. "The exact same reason that I'm going with you now: that's the fun part." The way he spoke was enigmatic. He was clearly of a foreign origin, but his accent was almost lost by now.

Light was intrigued, very much so. "So, I just take you with me. No payments, no questions?"

"No payment, no questions," Mr. Whammy reiterated, nodding slightly, moving to pull back the drape over the doorway. "You may leave quietly, but remember, you could have prevented what you're doing."

Light looked at L. This was certainly ominous. But he was desperate enough to take the chance. "What are we talking here then, Mr. Whammy? Is he the coming of the end of the world, plagued, a witch?"

"He could possibly be all three," Matt said, snickering, standing, and moving close to L. "But then, anyone could be, given the wrong time, and conditions of birth." Light looked at him skeptically, as though he were the creature that he would have to carry with him for three days.

"I'll take my chances."

Light took its elbow and lead it out the door and through the shop. He was out into the streets that were lined with ugliness and death. The old building he had walked out of seemed like a palace. Light carefully evaded a disgusting mud puddle, floating with unpleasant things that smelt worse than they looked.

The carriage was where he had left it, right out front, footman waiting at his open door, and his wife staring idly out the widow, with a dainty hand tapping against her cheek. He stepped in, holding the footman's hand. L followed him without assistance, slapping away the hand of the footman and pulling himself in.

He fit in the grand carriage well, like some elegant thing that was made for the grandeur of the world he had been taken out of and thrust back into.

"So tell me, L, what is it that you did to get thrown from the King's favor?"

"Oh, my, my, Lord Yagami, if I just told you that it would ruin all the fun promised to you." L pulled the door closed and looked out the window, one large well formed hand holding back the satin curtains. He was somewhere else in the world, Light realized. This thing, whatever it was that L was, wasn't exactly human, at least, not a normal human.

The reeking lands gave way to the rolling green hills and fields. As the three day journey wore on, L appeared to get sicker, weaker. He insisted he was fine, his voice was still strong, his motions were still with purpose, but his skin was paler, his body looked hungrier.

Finally, on the last leg of their journey, after Misa had been talking for several hours about nothing that Light cared about, he addressed L with the intention of actually having a real conversation. At least until the stench of his lands came to him, sickness not nearly as thick as where he had been, and death not nearly as rampant. It still lent a smell.

"What was it that you said to Matt before you left?"

"Hm, Matt is somewhat foolish. He was taken in by Watari when his parents passed away. Matt grew up among all the oddities, and he became interested in science and mechanics. Unfortunately for him, he fell in love with another orphan. A hunter." L was wistful. Light was quite aware that L knew that Light wanted conversation, otherwise he wouldn't have spoken three words on the subject.

"But he doesn't know just how dangerous it is to love someone who loves someone else, especially a man who kills for a living. That hunter's arrows are his kisses, I've always told him that."

The smell came to Light. It was like an aphrodisiac after the place he had been. The water ran clearer in his lands, the corpses in the streets were at least a hundred less, the children didn't make jungle gyms of dead dogs. "Your lands, I presume," said L, tapping the metal of the coach. "That's good. I need rest in a bed, I'll feel better after that I hope."

That wasn't right. L hadn't slept a wink on the trip and looked no worse for wear besides whatever malady he was suffering leeching his colour and making his slouch more obvious. But his eyes were not tired, despite the bags under them. That was damage from not sleeping, not damage from the need to.

"Yes, I think you'll find my estate to your liking."

"No doubt, Light."

Light felt his mouth twitch. Up until then the man had addressed him properly and respectfully. Oddly, he found that he wasn't sure he minded. Should they meet over a bed sheet in time (which was Light's intention from the start) he would rather hear his own name, as opposed to his title.

"You said that Matt was in love with a hunter. Does that mean that he isn't attracted to the fairer sex?" Light asked, watching the houses and streets over L's right shoulder. "And this doesn't bother you at all."

L looked amused. His wide mouth was turned slightly at the corners, his huge eyes alight with a fire that Light was beginning to get somewhat familiar with. "Of course not. I was after all a bed warmer for the most powerful man in the country."

That wasn't exactly what Light had meant, but he would take it anyway. He clearly wasn't bothered by the idea of same sex relationships, something that surprised Light a little, seeing how most concubines were forced into the slavery.

When the carriage was stopped and husband and wife were helped out, followed by a stumbling slave, they were at a tower. The thing was a redbrick terror, fortified by nothing, for it feared nothing. Stables offered the smell of horses and the familiar scent of hay. The courtyard was overgrown and uncared for, wild with life's splendor and crawling with insects and small animals.

L was quite happy with the state of things. Even the ivy that crawled into the windows and around the foundation, weakening it in places. It was a place that when all died, would be a haven to nature. It was already a mess, there wasn't much to it in reality.

Up a stone staircase and through a wooden door, with carving from a master craftsman who should have never made it out of apprenticeship, the three went. They traveled halls made of chilly stone, passed alcoves where slaves slept on pallets of hay, and up to the rooms.

The bed that L was given was lumpy, but it was a bed. The walls were all the colour of slate, and the room was totally freezing. The floor was stone, the window had no protection from the elements. There were no books, no vanity. It was like a cell, though there was a somewhat comfortable bed, and a small table where meals were to be given. L wasn't displeased, minimal living comforts were his forte.

Light was happy to be back. He was disappointed in his new object. The young man didn't seem very extraordinary. He had to hand it to him though, he didn't get tired of looking at him. He was intriguing looking. But other than that, there seemed to be very little going for him. He couldn't read or write. But he did, however, speak beautifully. He was intrigued by what he was hiding. He felt like having L there may lead to one big game. For him, that was enough to keep the man, but he was nonetheless disappointed that he offered no immediate relief.

He went to bed that night with Misa on the other side of the bed, wondering how much more comfortable he'd be with a dark eyed young man with him. He didn't imagine that he'd be much happier that way.

Light slept that night, with his wife curled up on the other side of the bed. Her eyes open, mouth set in a grim line, fingers moving over a pendent. She listened to Light breath. She listened to his heartbeat. She felt his movements in the bed. The jerk of the sheets left her longing for his touch. At night Misa rarely smiled. And that night she was too busy thinking about the thing that had entered her tower, supposedly the thing that would lift the desperate feeling in Light that drove him to ignore her, to stare for hours at nothing, and to neglect his people.

What could some pale monstrous man offer him that she, his wife, and most beautiful woman in his court, could not offer him?

Neither the sleeping Light, nor the waking and ailing Misa knew that in the night there was a shadow moving along the walls. They didn't know what Light had brought back with him. They could have never known. One thing was for sure though, Light was about to get the excitement that he wanted.

A/N: There you have it. I hope that it is taken well. I love feed back, though I will not beg.


	2. What Doesn't Bode Well for Hunters

A/N: Here is the second chapter. This is almost a filler, but it introduces Matt, Mello, and Near into the story. I promise that they have their connections to the main plot, but for the time they are pretty much a buffer for what (I hope) will soon become some rather disturbing content while the relationship between L and Light progresses. The vision that I had for Mello was a lot more harsh and cruel than what I gave you here. He needs to be redeemable though, I realize. As for Matt, he's a little...flat, but I think I've succeeded at giving him a pretty decent tragic flaw.

Warnings: some mentions of Light's exploits and wants, L being weird, dying animals, some disturbing imagery, some disturbing thoughts, Kira begins to rear his ugly head in Light

Disclaimer: If I owned it, it would take place pre-industrial revolution and all the characters would be physically clawing each other apart.

Chapter two: What Doesn't Bode Well With Hunters and Lords

That morning, Light had to search high and low, glaringly pushing servants out of the way, hissing at cooks, and bitching about life in general. The room that he had given L was empty that morning. The bed was made, but warm, clearly slept in, but early left.

Frankly, he was actually rather excited to find himself doing something that wasn't reading or besting his servants at chess. It didn't take him long to find the wayward concubine. He was sitting, pretty as you please, on the grass of the courtyard.

L had already found his fondest place. No one really came back to the courtyard, and it was overrun with weeds and contained a massive and disgusting pond that no fish have lived in for some time. The weather was not pretty, but L was painfully careful about not getting dirty. That intrigued Light.

"I don't suppose you'd think it cleaner to be indoors?" he asked, alerting his approach. He wasn't disappointed when he saw L's shoulders tense under his shirt.

"Why, Light, of course not. I find everywhere so evenly unsanitary," he answered, turning to look at him, his huge disturbing eyes giving away nothing.

Light cared to notice for the first time that his eyes were unnaturally large. They were clear in the sense of cloudiness, but they didn't offer any insight. They were disturbingly unnatural in their coldness and emptiness.

"You're enjoying the weather? The smells? It's a sight better than where you came from," Light said, wondering how the young man engaged in light conversation.

His question was answered: clearly not very well. The other man's brows knitted together momentarily, as though he were diligently thinking of a way to answer without sounding snide. He decided not to answer him directly. "Where I came from was satisfactory. Here, at least I think, there is less death, but none of what I know."

There was a sudden and chilly wind. L gripped his thin shoulders and a shiver wracked him. He was so vulnerable to the elements. His skin was so thin, so gorged with blood, so white, it almost seemed like he could be toppled and killed if a leaf were to fall on him from high enough. Light knew that wasn't true though. There was strength in his abnormally large hands.

"Why not eat something?" Light asked, placing a hand on the small of the man's back. His hand was quickly brushed away and L turned to lead the way back inside.

"I apologize. I ate in the kitchen earlier this morning," he said, absently looking over his thin shoulder. His eyes were half lidded. Light narrowed his eyes to match L's and they stared at each other for a long minute.

"Why is your name L? Is that your real name?"

"Of course it isn't, but my name is part of the game. You may call me whatever you want, but L, is just a lot easier to remember than a whole name," he said, stepping across the threshold. When his barefoot hit the cold stone he hissed and lifted it. "Too much stone. It would be far smarter to warm this place more often."

Light shrugged and moved past him. "Perhaps you should wear shoes?"

"I don't suppose you'll provide them for me."

"Not unless I have to. But I can't have you getting sick."

L cocked his head that that oddly. A moment later the disheveled hair was pressed to the stone wall, fingers tracing the nooks in them, chasing the spiders and mites that poured out from between the stones. "You're a killer, you know that? I can't rightfully condone killers."

He left after that, walking off with his strange almost limp, a result of his abysmal posture. Light watched him go, knowing that he was right, but not really caring. Of course he had no direct hand in the deaths of so many people in his lands, but his hands off ruling policy surely didn't help, or even sped along the death rate.

He figured as long as no masked plague entered his home he had little to worry about.

He went to the kitchen to inquire about L's visit. The cooks looked a little confused, but answered that he had, in fact, visited them that morning and finished off three plates of tea cakes and eight earthenware cups full of frothy milk. The dietary clue to L's personality intrigued Light, but he didn't bother to pay it mind at the moment.

When he left the kitchen, he ran into his wife. She was carefully piling her skin with that powder of hers that offered her a pale complexion. "Light, I was looking for you. I missed you this morning," she admitted, carefully winding her hands together, over her shimmering rings.

"I missed you as well, but I had something to attend to."

"That new... thing of yours?" she asked, malice and spite winding through her. "You know that if he comes between out love then I'll kill him myself, don't you? I never once told you that you couldn't have whatever you wanted..." She looked suddenly sad.

"Misa, don't worry. I'm merely keeping him here for amusement."

His words were all sweet poison to her. She knew better, but she wanted so much for him to love her that it didn't matter that she knew he was lying. On those rare nights when he held her, hands trying hard to touch as little of her as possible, she almost had hope for her own happiness. His power and his allure made her happy, but his love would make her euphoric.

"Now, Misa, go do something else, please, I have much to attend before court this morning."

She left him, looking longingly, and walking slowly, hoping to catch his eye. He turned away from her quickly, negating any hope of a shared look.

He went quickly to the stables. He wasn't sure what he could do there, but it was away from Misa. Even that brief exchange had him about ready to pull out his own hair. Just the sound of her voice put him on edge,

He left through the servant's door, pushing a young androgynous boy that was no stranger to his bed out of the way. He paid him no mind as he scrambled to gather all the berries and herbs that his lord had succeeded in knocking out of his arms. The boy came around the garden around the same time everyday. Had he known his master was coming he would have steered clear.

The stables were a short walk away and they were well stocked with large and beautiful equine. They were strong and well taken care of beasts, sometimes even better fed than the people of the tower.

He entered the stable and stepped around a pile of hay. He weaved through the stable boys as they threw hay into the stalls to horses that puffed out steaming breath. He didn't speak to anyone, nor did he intend to until he noticed a stall that was open.

Peering in he saw that there was stable boy sitting in the hay, which reeked with sickness and filth. The boy looked like he had wallowed in mud, but it was clear he had been wrestling with a very sick horse. The thing was a gorgeous young Gypsy Cob that Light knew had been quite hale and healthy the day before they left. It was laying on its side and breathing deeply, very deeply.

The young boy looking after it was bruised and battered, but seemed to have come out of a sudden frenzy quite okay.

"What happened to her?" Light asked, kneeling down, looking the ailing creature in the eyes. For a long time he just watched the glassy sheen on her, watched her blink, one eye and then the other. He looked at the boy. "Well?"

"W-we aren't sure, my lord. She just... she was okay yesterday, but this morning she was very aggressive and wouldn't eat. And then she started to smell like rotting flesh. She's real sick, sir. She attacked me when I tried to walk her out. But she was too weak to hurt me too badly. She fell and hasn't moved since." He sounded worried. The help in the stable got naturally attached to the animals that they looked after.

"What about medicine? I don't suppose that any of you thought to look into that?" he asked, sounding amused. In reality, he was. Nothing like this had happened in a while. That it had to be a horse dying and not one of the stable boys was a shame, but it was something.

Light sat and watched it, taking a morbid sense of joy in the creatures dying breath, the light flicking in and out of its eyes. That's when it occurred to him, that he wanted that. That was what he was missing, the control, the feeling of having a life in the palm of his hand.

One of his hands clenched at the thought. He was itching, he was itching all over. And the itching didn't stop until he saw that the Gypsy Cob was finished breathing and the stable boy was trying to get his attention.

He left quickly, pushing young stable hands out of the way and standing somewhere between the tower's doors and the stable, one hand on his heart, and holding the other in front of his face. He examined the disgusting nails, the callouses, on his fingers and then he went to find L.

He found him promptly, standing innocently enough near the kitchen with a small clay pot, presumably filled with honey.

Light promptly walked up to him and back handed him so hard that the clay pot fell out of his hands and broke and he slumped to the ground. "Light, that was pretty uncalled for." His response was a quick sweep of his leg, sending the lord flying to the floor.

This was the moment that Light became slightly worried about what he may have done. L leaned down to the floor, only a few feet from where Light was pulling himself up. He stuck out his tongue and pressed it to the floor and licked the honey that had fallen there.

Needless to say the floor was revolting. Rats and insects had made way across it for years, bare feet, clothed feet, leather bound feet, and plagued feet had walked on it. Light paused getting up to watch him.

When L was quite finished he stood, albeit shakily, and wiped his mouth. He blinked down at Light and then held out a hand. "I think it's time we talked. This game is going no where with you being so 'busy'."

Light ignored his hand, but not his offer. "After court today, I want to talk to you. I'm losing interest in you very quickly." This was untrue. One look in those hideously empty eyes piqued Light's interest again and again,

He wanted to pick those eyes out, to keep them, hide them away where no one would ever see them. He wanted his own secret like that. He looked at L. And he wanted to hurt him, and he wanted to fuck him. Even though they were his thoughts, they scared Light.

"Fine. I'm sure you'll find me. You seem particularly skilled at that," L said, nodding and taking his leave, crushing the shards of the little honey pot against the hard floor with his bare feet. The man didn't seem to notice, but Light followed his bloody footprints hungrily.

Matt was careful. He sneaked around bushes, and didn't leave tracks. Mello always knew though. He always knew somehow... Matt watched him though the gaps in the trees, carefully calculating his steps. It was like one of his machines, it was precise and calculated.

Unlike his machines, Mello got annoyed. He lowered his bow and he looked at the mess of trees and bushes that Matt was hiding in. He was very clearly annoyed. Matt smiled. That made him happy.

"Get out of here, Matt," he said, coming closer. His hair blew out of his face so that Matt could clearly see the old scar there. It detracted from Mello's beauty so much, but drew Matt in farther. "You're scaring all the game. Please, just go."

He was so close that Matt could hear his breath tickling the leaves of the bushes. He felt his breath hitch, felt his heart flutter. And then one of Mello's arms was around him, around his neck, choking him. And then one of his arrows was pressed to his jugular. "Leave, Matt..." he whispered, his deadly breath ghosting his ear.

The feeling was so overwhelming, being so close to Mello, smelling the sweet scent of his leather. Matt closed his eyes. He didn't care that the arrow was deadly sharp and was drawing a line in his flesh. He didn't care when he bled. He did care when he felt Mello lick it.

"There, you have something to obsess over for a while, now leave me alone." The arrow went away first, and then the arm went. The small bush shook and Matt sank to his ass, one hand pressed against the shallow cut on his throat. Mello leaped off, bow raised and he struck down something. Matt heard the vague thump of it. And for a moment he wanted to be that dying creature, just so that last thing he would see would be Mello. He wanted that arrow in his heart, because Mello was personal with the animals. He bowed down in front of them, he spoke to them, thanked God for their existence. Matt wanted Mello to thank him for existing, wanted to feel that arrow. Because as L always told him, a hunter's arrow is his kiss. And Mello fit that more than most.

Matt was left alone for a long time, feeling the press of thorns on his back. Mello found him hours later and dragged him out of the bush and sat him before him, his leather pack filled with rabbits. "I told you to go home. Watari is going to start getting sick of seeing me."

Matt just smiled and shrugged, leaning his head on his shoulder. "Mello..." Just saying it was all he wanted. Mello knew that, so didn't bother wondering what he wanted. He helped the boy home, through the streets flooded with vermin.

Mello felt the fat rats running over his feet, pulsing with a dinner of diseased human flesh. All the rats in the town were well fed. There were a lot of dead to go around. Mello wanted to shield Matt from this, but the young man would have no part of it if it meant leaving Mello, which Mello honestly wouldn't mind happening.

He lead him to his home. The odd store kept by the odd man. Inside the chipping wood door sat Near. He was setting and resetting things on the shelves, pausing to twirl his hair around his fingers every now and then. Mello smiled softly at him and pushed Matt over the threshold. "Near, I brought back a rat for you," he said playfully as Matt caught his balance.

"Thank you Mello. You can surely show yourself out," Near said, actually turning to look at Mello. He didn't look annoyed, he didn't really look anything. Just like L. The two had so much in common that Mello began to wonder where his attraction for the pale haired boy had come from.

"Surely. Try not to let Matt drive Watari crazy," he said, glowering at them both, needing a reason to be snide to Near. "Who else will keep you stocked with your immature fancies?"

Mello stepped over the stoop and shut the door behind him.

"You were out watching him again," Near stated, looking up from his work, carefully arranging incense. "You know he doesn't like that. I don't like him coming here. We always fight, and he insists on being cruel to me," Near went on, locking his eyes on Matt.

Matt just sighed and looked at his shoes. They were cracking and mud covered. He was hoping he hadn't tracked too badly. Looking back he saw that it wasn't terrible. Since L wasn't there anymore he wouldn't be pushed to clean it up right away. Near was a lot like L, but he didn't share the extent of L's cleanliness.

"I can't help it."

"Well, at least try. I'm tired of him."

They didn't say anything else to each other. Matt retired to the unfurnished room in the back and picked up some delicate little instrument he had been working on and set to working on it, thoughts of Mello dancing in his head.

He knew that the hunter took advantage of him. He knew that he'd always be there for the blonde, and Mello knew it too. He was expendable in so many ways. Matt's friendship could be measured in coppers and bronze. His company couldn't even be counted in gold to Mello. But Mello didn't care.

The filthy world outside ticked away, four more people died in the streets before Matt's eyes, unaffected by tears looked up to stare at an empty wall to wonder what world of torment the young fair lord had unleashed on himself. He remembered what L had done to their home town. It had been a half way decent place before the king cast away the dark eyed abomination.

Matt wondered himself why the king hadn't killed the thing. Watari simply explained it as sick obsession, and told him that L had a charm about him that made him hard to kill. Given time, Matt knew, that young lord that had visited them, would be wound up in a world of disease and blood, and he wouldn't be able to do a thing about it.

A/N: There you have it. Hope I didn't disappoint. Hopefully you're all still wondering about the king and whatever the hell L is.


	3. Cruel

A/N: It has been some time. This is ever so slightly longer than usual. I hope it pleases you. It pleased me to write it. This chapter is mostly dedicated to development of L and Light's relationship. The second half is mostly dedicated to Matt's suffering. Hope you enjoy.

Warnings: some vague sexual content in this chapter and more angst than I wished I'd had in me.

Chapter three: Cruel

Light called for L after court. All of his dealings had been swift and half hearted. There was a farmer's rebellion. He ordered them slaughtered. A child begged for money for a dying mother. Out of sheer annoyance Light ended the boy's life right then, slitting his throat and watching him gurgle and gasp in his own pool of blood. All in a day's work.

Light waited in his drawing room. It was a room filled with broken promises of the worst kind. There were books worn with mold, old documents of family history, so neglected that they no longer relayed text, floors that were scuffed and creaking. Indeed, the room promised a quiet place to breathe and work, but all Light ever saw was the neglect, the frowning faces of his late parents.

Somewhere in the castle a beast was feasting, and Light never knew it.

Tendons sliced and ripped and a greedy mouth swallowed organs whole while flesh tore from bone like melting cheese. Eyes, devoid of most life wondered why it had to be like this, but it went on, smashing bone to drink the marrow, wincing at the crunch.

No one would miss an already dead horse.

L came to the drawing room much later, shuffling along, nibbling on his thumb nail. He looked…fresh, clean. His hair was as distracting as usual and wasn't perfumed. Light chalked his freshly washed appearance up to his imagination and indicated a place for L to sit.

L did so, drawing his knees up to his chin, eyes looking wider than normal, a child eager to learn almost, but also an it ready and waiting to fire at Light.

"L, I'll be frank with you. I'm very… irritated."

L smiled, not a tooth in smile either, it was just slight. Light felt like his skin was made of maggots suddenly. He looked down at his arms. His skin was fine.

"Why be irritated? We're having such fun already." L's voice was sarcastic and felt bendy, like it wasn't what he wanted to say, but it sufficed for the time.

In the darkness of the room L's skin was almost luminous, almost. There was nothing pretty to describe that particular shade of white. The kindest way that Light could find to put it was the shade of curdled milk. He found himself wanting to touch it, lick it, curious if it was sour to taste.

"What have you to offer me then, why should I not have you hanged and that old man along with you?"

L sighed and leaned his head back on his chair. The action was so human that Light was momentarily stunned. He had forgotten that this thing actually was flesh and blood. Even in something like him, with his eyes of darkest midnight and his skin like spilled fat, there were veins, and his blood was probably just as red and Light's.

L sighed again, lower this time and he bit his thumb nail again. "I'm stimulating conversation, Light," he told him, wide eyes unblinking, but suddenly looking twice as tired than normal, even with the bags.

"And that's why I should keep you?" Light asked this slowly, watching L's face for…something. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but the scattered and vacant look on the other's face was not what he was looking for.

"Absolutely not," L said, taking his thumb from his mouth, quick broken and bleeding. The little wound hurt badly and it pulsed with his heartbeat. He bled red, just like Light. L, humanity restored in his owner's eyes, put his hand down and went on.

"I don't expect you to keep me for that, but it may relieve some of your current boredom. Of course we could always resort to something more carnal."

Light knew what he meant and it was tempting. He found, though, that at the moment he was intrigued by his former offer more so than the later. "Fine then, talk to me."

L was annoyed. He hated it when people were so vague. "The weather has been very unpredictable lately." In all actuality it was a fair topic. Droughts and flooding were interchanging dangerously. Light didn't want to talk about weather.

"Is that all you can think of?"

"You're a murderer…I can't condone murder."

Light had heard it before, but it hit him the same way a second time. Truth didn't sting him, but it was still a truth. Light sighed and smiled languidly. His hands were red but his soul was redder. He had killed people physically, and he had killed them mentally. It all came down to what L meant.

"Even if it benefits everyone?" Light wondered, cupping his chin and smiling at L, eyes flashing.

"Even then, justice isn't a killer; it's a savior and a forgiver. To murder a murderer is only more murder," L went on, watching Light's eyes, curious about them, intrigued.

"If utopia can be achieved by the deaths of the few, than the many will be thankful and the end justifies the means."

"So it is right to pave a legacy in blood? For one's utopia to strive it must be fed, be that in blood and tears, or in sacrifice and mercy, is up to the one asked. I cannot imagine any higher state of civilization built on a mountain of skulls. There will be crime, always, one cannot kill all criminals and expect to not sleep on graves, or to drink their blood in once clean water."

"Your sense of justice is warped, L. Nothing can come of allowing crime. That viewpoint only condones it. That in itself is a plague. No utopia can be built on weak wills. Some blood will always come."

L was amused and Light was elated. They spoke like they were stabbing each other. Light's frown etched into his brow, but his mind was whirring alive, all the dusty mechanics coming to life. They debated a long time in the drawing room amongst the old memories and moldy tomes.

That is, they debated until they fought. Words got louder, fists involved themselves. They were screaming and L was on the floor, fists crossed over his eyes while Light stood over him.

"You…you think your justice is more real or potent than mine?"

"I _am _justice." That voice and that look, just everything, hit Light at once, and he had a sinking feeling that L was not lying. Euphoric blood flew while Light mercilessly tried to kill L and L fought back, unwilling to die.

They were tangled in sweaty limbs, Light more alive than he had ever been, and L honestly amused by the situation. They laughed, and they screamed all at once. L protested for his justice. Light didn't listen to him, he just kept throwing punches.

When both were too tired to go on Light collapsed over L's stomach. The body under him was tense with his weight, but didn't struggle with it. Light felt the muscles in the thing's arms and along the chest. The euphoria was dying down, leaving a glow in its place, one that was oddly reminiscent of after glow. Light felt more sexually stimulated and fulfilled than he had ever remembered feeling.

"I hope you are more convinced now," L said, his eyes sliding shut. He was already day dreaming about sweet things, mind off of Light, somewhere else. L couldn't be sure where he was going, but it was a tactic he had learned long ago to hover over his body when bad things happened.

Light said nothing, he didn't need to. The proof was all over his face. There was an expression there of intense pleasure. "Do you play chess?"

"Better than you, I assure you."

Misa stood still as a statue, eyes wide and glowing in the half darkness of the stone hall way. Had anyone seen her they would have fancied her mad with frenzy, for that is exactly how her face presented itself. Inside carefully controlled anger was quivering, but her face grew hateful. She kept her feet from moving, kept her hands off the awkward crane neck of the new creature that inhabited her home.

He wasn't a concubine, he was a beast. He was a monster, and that monster had easily slipped in and stole Light's attention. Love wasn't something she was worried about. That thing appeared incapable of any emotion. That notion was blissfully out of her mind.

Tapping her foot she turned, hateful eyed and hunched posture. The door to the study was slightly open. Inside L and Light reached a stalemate over a wooden much too old chess board.

When the two left the study, L padding off in some direction to do whatever it was that he did when he was alone, Light was satisfied to have proven him wrong. It felt invigorating. Though he hadn't won he felt as though he had. L felt the same way. His final three moves had been calculated perfectly to achieve the outcome. Light was easily pulled into a trap. He would think he had a chance next time they played when L would dominate their metaphoric playing field with wooden pieces. Lrubbed his hands together and thought about being at the stable.

Watari was growing older. His hair got greyer everyday it seemed. This worried the two orphans. And that was exactly what Matt was thinking about as he lit an incense stick in the mostly empty back room. He was sitting right across from the camouflaged door where L had made his stay for months and months before he had been taken away. Watari had hopes for him. L would have taken the store, taken charge of the two boys. It wasn't as if there was a lot to deal with. No one in the deserted hamlet had any money anyway. And if they did it was covered in their own blood.

The incense swept over Matt and he closed his eyes. There was something cold and metallic in his hand. His passion lay in two unfortunate things: the new and already profitable art of mechanics, and Mello. His thoughts were so scattered. He only realized this when he could have sworn he saw Mello's hand reaching out for him from the darkness.

In a fit of unjustified rage he flung the mechanical device against a wall, any wall. The darkness was so deep that he couldn't even make out which direction was which. All he knew was that the damnable door was before him. It wasn't clever. It was just painted the same colour as the rest of the wall. But that worked well enough.

The sound of the device breaking was heart wrenching and none too pretty sounding. To Matt there was little more pitiable than a broken piece of machinery. Perhaps the only thing worse would be missed query. Mello dealt with that problem frequently.

Standing, Matt marched forward and found his nose pressed against the door. He could smell the lead in the paint, that mouth watering metallic scent that clung to leather so easily... Leather and metal were a perfect combination. It was just a shame that the one who wore leathers didn't see that.

Beyond the door was a room. And in that room was the source of decay. Or at least...that's where it had been. Now it was nothing but a pathetically furnished room with no light, no bed, nothing. It had at once been used as storage for all the curios, but the stock dwindled over time as Watari stopped traveling. Both the stock room, and the massive back room were left empty.

The smell of sickness still clung to the wood beyond the smell of metal and chemical. It was a sensational moment. The feel of flesh on wood. It was a sad way for Matt to be one with nature, but that was the essence of the action. The door had been a tree once, like the trees that held and comforted Mello when he was alone in the cold. Matt closed his eyes and let the euphoria come over him from the thoughts, from the smell.

His head was dizzy with the feeling and his hand slid down his front, across lily white ribs, down his abs and slinking so secretively into his pants that he himself almost didn't notice. Tepid flesh came into contact with searing flesh and Matt gnashed his teeth. The contrast was painful. The feeling was painful. It was painful that it was his own hand.

Lithe fingers encircled his engorged and pulsing flesh and he pumped. One arm was held above his head for balance. At least, that's why he kept saying to himself it was there. In reality it was shame. An arm stood between his eyes and the darkness, shielding him from a million eyes that weren't there. Shielding him from Mello's eyes.

Ah...Mello's eyes.

A sweet mouth opened, saliva clinging to his teeth. Thin ropes of semen splashed out over his lonely hand and it withdrew. Body lonely and unfulfilled, Matt wiped his hand clean on his shirt. He broke away from the door and turned in one fluid movement. He was inclined to stay in the store for the night, but he knew that would do him no good.

He left the store behind. So used to the floor was he that not once did he bump into a protruding statue or full counter on his way out. He bade no good bye to the comparatively healthy interior of the store when he stepped out to the unforgiving and freezing street.

The light of the moon washed over him in beams. It was almost like a holy light. Matt felt his soul come alive in the night. Such a perfect moon made a much more perfect scene. The corpses in the street didn't look nearly so repulsive. The two starving cats on the street ahead of him didn't seem to be mating nearly as violently as they usually did. Even the constant smell of defecation was muted. The air on such a beautiful night was equally beautiful.

"Matt, you're going to freeze."

He looked back, trying to be demure, but his heart was mushy and not exactly eloquent. A clean fur coat was draped over his shoulders and it smelled like leather.

Mello stood behind him, arms crossed, looking petulant as ever. He was in leathers and in his sack Matt could make out a pair of rabbit ears. Smells of blood and dirt came off the bag. Such a lucky thing, Matt thought, to be pierced by a hunter's kiss and die. A hunter's arrow was his kiss after all, and Matt had to suffer the sting of a shaft in his heart.

"Thanks. Sorry to worry you."

"I'm not worried."

Of course he wasn't, Matt thought drearily. He was never worried about him. If he had been Near he would have been swept into the hunter's arms, protected by his curtain of blonde hair. Matt, though, was just stuck with the heavy winter coat. In reality, he felt colder with the thing on.

"Good to know," he said, jokingly. He pulled a smile. It was easy to smile when Mello was there, even when it tore his gut asunder to do so. He pulled the coat tighter and sighed softly. The smell that clung to the fur sat his mind on fire.

"Are you going home?"

"I had planned to," Matt began, "but I think I'll stay out for a while. Tonight's a rare night."

"October is a rare month."

The two shared a look. "That it is," Matt finally agreed. October was one of those rare months. No more rare than any other, but in that there were hardly any others so pleasant. He personally couldn't wait until the beastly month of February. Cold bred in his bones like a virus. He had a natural affinity to such months.

"How do you imagine that snobbish lord is handling L?" Mello asked.

Matt didn't have to think, the response came as naturally as breathing. "He isn't, you don't _handle _L." He sighed, thinking about the truthfulness of his words. He wanted to slink closer to Mello and forget that pallid nightmare. "I don't want to talk about him anymore."

Mello put a hand on Matt's shoulder and lead him towards his place of residence. Matt live in a small one bedroom home with Watari and Near. They both had left, probably eaten, and were likely in bed. Matt was left to skulk around about in the quiet and repugnant town. It happened that way pretty frequently.

"I don't want to go back, Mello," Matt said, turning to look at him. Mello's eyes were immediately drawn to the almost imperceptible smear of white down the front of Matt's shirt. He traced three fingers in the design and imagined what the boy had been doing.

Mello wanted to roll his eyes at him. There was no shame there. He didn't even try to hide the proof of his amorous activities. Irksome little shit, Mello thought, putting an arm around his shoulders. "You don't want to go back, fine. Keep the jacket, I need to get home."

"Can I come with you?" Matt asked, taking hold of his hand. Matt was smaller, but his hand was almost as big as Mello's. It was twice as rough too. Mello noticed this with some amount of surprise. Callouses ran the expanse of that appendage, the palms and the fingers. Mello's callouses kept to his finger tips mostly. Matt wasn't the delicate thing that Near was.

As he stood there Mello imagined the almost brutally real hand turn into something smaller, lighter. Near was a rare breed. As a hunter Mello was attracted to the rarer breeds. An albino pelt was worth more than a run of the mill brown one. But in nature an albino was more likely to die. Less likely to suffer hunger and pain. Albinos and rare breeds died young and innocent.

He almost kissed the small pale hand when he saw it fit his own, transform into one darker, larger, and rougher. The cold reality of Matt's face looked at him. Those bright eyes instead of the darker ones. That bright red hair as opposed to the silver strands of fairy graced silk.

"No," Mello answered him after a time. "No, Matt, not now. Not ever."

Matt shook his head in that queer fashion he had of pushing things off his mind. "I suppose I'll be on my way then." He didn't give the jacket back. Not letting him tag along was one thing, but taking away the only thing that would remind him that the encounter had happened was abuse. "I'll see you some other time."

Mello was almost taken aback. And he would have been utterly were it not for the slight shake of the head. Matt wasn't a delirious child. He was in love, and he knew good and well that Mello would never be his. He was cruelly aware of how Mello's eye was meant for Near. It nearly made a pain bubble up in Mello's chest. If Matt couldn't have Mello, he couldn't have him.

"Yeah. Stay out of trouble. And if I catch you following me while I'm hunting again, I swear to God Matt, I will bring you back to Watari in a box."

Matt smiled and shrugged at the threat. "As long as it's a flattering box. I'd hate to be immured in something gaudy or too plain... Better to be gaudy than unremarkable I suppose."

Mello laughed at that, slapping the smaller boy on the back. Matt felt the acute sting of a barb in the heart. Mello may as well be standing before him, arrow affixed on his chest for all the pain the kind sound caused. He would have rather been struck down and dizzy.

The thoughts must have shown on his face because Mello pulled his arm away from Matt and waved. "Good night." He turned away from him and walked off. Matt could have sworn that he could hear the clicking of his boots for hours after that. But really it was just the rain. It rained for hours. In that beautiful clean night the rain washed away the filth. Bits of flesh and vomit rinsed down the streets. Still, Matt stood, listening to the clicking of a man's shoes who had long gone.


End file.
